Dark Moon

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt.

The pocket watch nestled against my chest began to vibrate. With the unhurried grace of a true gentleman, I drew it out and checked the caller. Rose, the director of the X Labor Agency. I answered.

"It's me."

"Ah, of course it's you. You strut around playing the refined gentleman, but the moment something like this comes up you turn into a complete savage."

Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, I cleared my throat.

"The job's finished. Has the payment come through?"

"Deposit confirmed. After my hundred-thousand-credit fee, the remaining four hundred thousand will hit your account shortly."

"You called just to tell me that?"

"According to the client, you stormed the black mage's workshop that was producing the contaminants. Where are you right now?"

"I finished the black mage and was about to head back."

The black mage was already dead, and I had run into a demon on top of that. There was no need to report every last detail. This hadn't even been part of the original commission, and I had already handled it on my own.

"So you're still near Wayway Village. I suppose that's a small mercy."

"…What's going on?"

"The client put in a new request. The job is to rescue Wayway Village from the Fracker biker gang."

"They're under attack by a biker gang…"

"Normally it would end at simple looting, but today's different. The old leader died and a new one just rose to power. This is the new boss's initiation rite. Worst case, you'll see over a hundred casualties."

The Fracker biker gang. Without a doubt, the same bastards who had ambushed me earlier that day.

I swung a leg over my bike and kicked the engine to life.

"Are you taking the job? Do you still have the strength for it?"

My reserves were razor-thin. Counterattacking the demon had burned through a lot of mana.

The smart move would have been to flee toward District W. The original payment was already in, so there was no need to risk my neck against a pack of bikers.

But those Fracker bastards had gotten under my skin. They had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠attacked me in broad daylight, and I felt like cleaning house while I was at it.

"What's the pay?"

"Eight hundred thousand credits. They're desperate."

"Hard to walk away from that kind of money."

"You're full of surprises."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The bike surged forward. I looked toward the village. Circling lights danced around its outskirts—the headlamps of the bikers. I killed my own lights and rode on. No sense advertising my position.

"Most people would pull out in a situation like this. No matter how good the money is, nothing beats keeping your own skin intact."

"I simply decided I can handle it."

"Oh, is that so? Well, good luck. Give it everything you've got."

The line went dead.

I slipped the pocket watch back into my coat. Gunfire cracked from the village. The townsfolk had barricaded themselves in the town hall and were holding the bikers off. The gang, for their part, looked ready to smash the hall itself to pieces; they were setting up a cannon.

Seven of them clustered together. Perfect timing for an area spell.

A rain of fire poured from the sky onto their heads. The startled thugs abandoned the cannon and tried to scatter, but a flaming shell struck the powder and a massive explosion bloomed.

KRAAAAAAANG!

Every last one of them was swallowed by the blast.

"What the shit!"

"A mage! There's a mage over there!"

"That's the bastard who killed the old boss! Boss! That guy's the sworn enemy of the Frackers! We have to avenge him!"

"Fine! I'll take that bastard's head and lay it at the old boss's spirit! Follow me! Yeeeah-hoooo!"

"Yeeeah-hooooooo!"

Roughly twenty of them howled and came after me. I hunched low over the handlebars and wrung more speed from the bike. I had already hit the top end of three hundred kilometers an hour, yet the gap kept closing.

Machine difference.

My bike was a rental I'd picked up at a shop on a whim. Theirs were illegal street machines dripping with aftermarket mods. Of course I was losing the race.

"You think you can run a death race against us on that piece of junk?"

"I'll give you points for guts, mage!"

"Yeeeah-ho! Death race!!"

Missiles and bullets streaked toward me. The barrier handled the bullets well enough, but the missiles were a nuisance.

The incoming missiles and bullets slammed into the ground. The missiles detonated, and two bikers were caught in the blast. To my surprise they shot a full twenty meters into the air before crashing back down. Their necks bent at hopeless angles. Instant death.

"Idiots!"

"We'll ride for the both of you!"

"Go warm up hell for us! Yeeeah-hoooo!"

The bikers' morale never cracked. If anything, the sight of their comrades' blood only whipped them into a greater frenzy.

At last one of them caught up. The rider who pulled level on my right gripped the handlebars with one hand and raised a crowbar in the other.

"Evenin', Mr. Mage! See my pretty little girl? I'm about to ram her straight into that precious bike of yours! Call it bike rape!!"

"Lunatic."

The crowbar in his fist flared crimson. Aura.

"Heh… heh-heh-hahahahaha!"

He cackled and drove the aura-charged crowbar toward my bike—

Bang!

A gunshot cracked and his head exploded. His bike lost balance and went down.

KRAANG! An explosion roared behind me as the wrecked machine detonated.

A sniper shot from the village. …Max, maybe.

More rounds followed, covering me. None of them found their mark the way the first one had, but the covering fire alone was help enough.

I swallowed hard.

Judging by my remaining mana, I had only two or three spells left in me. Meanwhile nearly twenty bikers still thundered at my back.

…There.

A stretch of rocky terrain came into view—a field of jagged boulders. At this speed, charging through it would almost certainly mean smashing into stone and dying.

I swung the bike toward the rock field.

"Huh? You suddenly lose your mind?"

The startled bikers hesitated and eased off the throttle a fraction.

I glanced back at them and let a smile curl the corner of my mouth.

"You were screaming about death races and all that, but the second death actually gets ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠close you chicken out?"

The taunt landed perfectly.

"Chicken out? Who's chicken?"

"Death means nothing!"

"Y-yeeeah-hoooo!"

We hurtled into the rock field.

I felt cold sweat bead on my forehead and wrenched my concentration to its absolute peak.

The instant I shot between two massive boulders, I triggered Charna.

If I kept going straight I would slam into rock and die. Right or left—the path was on the left. I wrenched the handlebars with everything I had. The bike's shriek nearly burst my eardrums.

KRAANG! Bang! Bang!

Explosions rolled behind me—the sound of bikers smashing into walls and dying with their machines.

I used Charna again and again, snapping the bike through successive turns.

Bang! Bang-bang-bang!

With every change of direction more bikers died, until only one remained—the gang's leader. He wore a grin full of pure madness.

"This is fun! So damn fun! Insanely fun!!"

The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠final pinch came into view. A massive boulder blocked the path dead ahead. Rock walls closed in on both sides; even if I turned I would still smash into stone.

Bike and all, I lifted into the air. Charna made the timing effortless. The bike sailed cleanly over the boulder.

I glanced back. The Fracker boss, aura blazing around his entire body, slammed into the rock.

KRAANG!

He kicked off the shattering stone fragments, launched himself into the air, and came straight at me.

"Hahaha! That was one hell of a ride! Now die already! Death Charge!"

A cluster of razor spikes clanged out from the front of his bike.

"Idiot. You got so worked up you didn't even notice."

"What?"

I pointed one hand at the sky.

High above, a vast magic circle hung between the clouds—one I had prepared the moment I entered the rock field. The blue array turned slowly, compressed lightning flashing at its heart.

The real problem had always been the bikers' speed. Even for me, landing a clean hit on maniacs who threw their lives away for pure velocity was nearly impossible.

But now, floating in midair with the bike's wheels no longer spinning, everything was different.

Lightning traveling at a hundred thousand kilometers per second slammed into him.

He was driven into the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠earth and exploded.

I checked the crater gouged into the ground, then rode at a leisurely pace back toward Wayway Village.

Sound travels at three hundred forty meters a second, right? So just how fast is lightning, then?

By raw speed alone, lightning felt invincible.

But in this world, ordinary lightning was not a particularly powerful weapon. And the moment a human tried to wield it, limits appeared. With Thunder Bolt, anyone who possessed even 3-Class mana affinity could sense the premonition of the strike.

In the end, lightning in human hands is just a very fast bullet.

Whether it was the speed of sound or the speed of lightning, a human could barely perceive either one.

"Thank you for the help!"

Max bowed his head to me. One after another, the villagers followed suit with their own thanks. I waved them off.

"I simply completed a commission."

"Still, thank you. Most people would have washed their hands of a mess like this and left. You didn't."

"I had a personal grudge with those bastards, that's all."

"Haha. Is that so?"

Max and the rest of the villagers seemed to be laboring under some kind of misunderstanding. The atmosphere was pleasant enough, so I decided to leave it alone.

"My bike's nearly out of fuel. I'd like to buy some… how much?"

"Haha. We'll fill it free of charge. You cleared out our biggest headache—least we can do. Stay the night. Tomorrow morning we'll lay out a proper feast."

"Hmm… well, if you insist. Bring the bike over and I'll top it off for you."

I followed him. Max filled the tank to the brim.

"Care for a drink? I'll treat you to my private stock. And don't you dare say something ridiculous like one glass will put you under. Even a stray dog wouldn't believe that."

"…One glass should be fine."

"Just a moment."

Max returned with a bottle and a glass. The bottle was half full.

"This is rare stuff. Last time I drank it was maybe twenty years ago… the day I was sworn in as sheriff."

"Isn't that a little too old?"

"Family secret recipe. One glass only. Even if you beg, you're not getting a second."

"…What kind of liquor is it?"

"My late father always said it was snake wine. What kind of snake, I couldn't tell you."

I looked at the golden liquid in the glass, then tossed it back in one swallow.

It was cold.

So cold it snapped my mind wide awake and froze me to the marrow. Then the chill turned into pure vitality. My mana circuits answered.

"…My mana went up a little. So it was an elixir."

I eyed the bottle with naked greed.

"Stare all you like—you're not getting more. And from the second glass on, there's no effect anyway."

"Elixirs like that are common enough. Thanks. I got something precious out of it."

"Travel safe."

I reached home before the morning sun rose.

I punched the code into the door lock.

588274.

A soft beep, and the front door swung open.

I flinched. Yuria was standing in the entryway.

"Welcome home, Master. I've been waiting. Would you like to eat first? Bathe first? Or… me first?"

Yuria smiled seductively and lifted the hem of her skirt just a fraction. Her sex remained hidden by the barest margin; instead, a glistening strand of arousal hung between her thighs.

"I—first—"

"Yes?"

"The bath first."

"…I beg your pardon?"

"My body's filthy with sweat and dust. I don't want to hold you like this."

Yuria looked startled for a heartbeat, then broke into a radiant smile.

"Forgive me. I was thinking only of myself. Allow me to attend you in the bath, Master."

Drip. Drip.

From somewhere close by came the soft sound of water falling.